The Strain: Another Season - Episode Two - Night Hero Part 2
by Rosie Brook-Meade
Summary: Dutch has discovered more about Alec ffinch-Myles, the man behind the Well Dressed Man broadcasts, which surprisingly gives Team Setrakian a glimmer of hope. New York is falling further into chaos and the scourge is spreading globally. A suspiciously over-dressed blonde has been barking isolationist commands at the UK leadership. Now someone she calls "Sir" is ordering her around.
1. Chapter 1

The Strain: Another Season  
Episode 2

 **Author's note: So I've split this story into "episodes", each with about 4 or 5 chapters. Once again, I hope this is acceptable fanfic behaviour.**

 **I've worked really hard to get all 4 chapters of this "episode" out in one go. If it's quantity over quality, I'm sorry about that.**

Night Hero Part 2  
Chapter One

Fet's place Red Hook, Brooklyn

Setrakian, Fet, Eph and Nora are gathered around Setrakian's passenger manifest on a large table, working out where to go first.

Fet pokes the first name. 'OK, Are not. Arnotte?' he tries.

'Arnot,' smirks Eph.

'Definitely not,' says Setrakian glancing at Eph and Nora.

Fet looks around at everyone, not understanding. 'Barbour,' he says.

'Only the children survived,' says Eph, 'and they're better off with their aunt.'

Nora is thoughtful. 'Perhaps we should check the survivors' families first,' she suggests. 'The sickness had a slower progression in them. Their Loved Ones might have had more time to realise something was wrong and escape or fight back.'

'OK,' says Eph. 'So…' He twists the manifest out of Fet's hands. '…Bolivar? That'd be an emphatic "No".'

'That leaves Luss and Redfern,' says Nora.

'Doyle?' says Eph. 'Well, we watched his deterioration ourselves – sooo…' Eph raises his head to look at Nora. '…that means that dreadful Luss woman,' he grimaces.

Fet regains the list and, reading with a finger, says, 'Bronxville. That's a long way out.'

Dutch is sitting apart, still at the laptop. 'Erm, what about Nikki?' she asks. 'Our apartment is really close.'

'We've already been there remember,' says Eph impatiently. 'Straight after the raid on the pawnshop. There was no one. It had already been several days since she ditched you at the gas station.'

'She went back and stole my stuff,' says Dutch not letting go. 'She survived that night. She might've come back or left a message.'

'Or she might have been turned after you separated,' says Setrakian. 'We shouldn't leave loose ends.'

Dutch bridles at that and starts to protests but swallows it, perhaps because she's getting what she wants.

'You and Vasiliy will come with me to your apartment at first light,' says Setrakian. 'Then we'll all head to Mrs Luss' house. Now, we should get some rest. I don't think anyone slept properly last night, scattered as we were about the floor. I know I didn't.'

'Should we post a guard?' suggests Fet.

'Good idea,' says Setrakian, approvingly. 'Two people should stay awake for a couple of hours at a time.'

'I'll take the first watch,' volunteers Dutch. 'I want to stay up and search for your Latino Boy-Buffy.'

Everyone looks blankly at her.

'The Vampire Slayer? Buffy the Vampire Slayer?' says Dutch incredulously. 'One girl in all the world…? Mum never let me watch it, which of course made it irresistible. Geez you are all so old.'

'Hey!' protests Zack from the floor in front of the television.

'Or too young,' she says. Then, as if realisation dawns, 'Oh. Of course, Angel and Spike…'

'Huh?' says Fet.

'I've been wondering why there've been all these zombie movies on FinchTV and yet no vampire ones,' she explains. She gestures at the television where Zack is half-watching a zombie being pithed with a golf club.

Setrakian is catching the idea. 'Vampires in popular culture are often depicted as charismatic figures of power,' he says. 'Capes, evening dress, castles - stylish and gothic.'

'Nowadays, it's more pale and gorgeous,' says Dutch. 'Hot teenagers with six-packs, telling you how lonely they are or promising a journey of sexual awakening. I'd 've thought Palmer would want to tap into that and sell an image of a vampire that's not gonna turn you into a mindless blood junkie.'

'The zombie movies are actually much more realistic aren't they?' says Nora. 'Fet just referenced them when he was telling those off duty cops how to kill vampires.'

Eph is unconvinced. 'Do you really think this Finch guy isn't helping Palmer and the Master – that he is, in some way, helping spread the truth?' he says. 'Look at that chat show earlier – the host was ripping that homeless guy to shreds over his description of "monsters" in the subway.'

'Yeah, but at least the story was on TV,' says Dutch. 'The public can make their own minds up. If Palmer's watching Finch's output, it would be the only way he could get the info out there. Think about it.'

'She's gotta point,' says Fet. Then he says to Dutch, 'I'll stay up with you.'

Eph says sarcastically, 'Of course, you will.'

Dutch shrugs a "whatever".

'Can Dad and I take a shift together?' asks Zack.

Eph is delighted. 'Sure, Z,' he says. 'We can do the middle of the night shift.' Then he turns to Fet. 'Oh yeah, where are we all sleeping?' he asks.

'I thought you two could share the box room and the girls could take the spare room, leaving you…' he nods at Setrakian, '…mine. I'll take the couch in the basement.'

'That's a most generous offer but I can't say an unwelcome one,' says Setrakian.

Fet shrugs.

'I'll try not to wake you when I get to bed,' says Dutch to Nora. 'We'll have to have that naked pillow fight some other time.' She nods at Fet, smiling sarcastically.

Setrakian asks Nora, 'I hope you don't mind waking me at four?'

'As long as you don't sleep in the nude,' she says and without waiting for a reply, she jogs blank faced upstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

The Strain: Another Season  
Episode 2

Night Hero Part 2  
Chapter Two

* * *

Zagros Mountains 1508

Paolo is huddled shivering in the back of the cave as sunlight filters in through the opening. He approaches it apprehensively and listens. After a while, he tentatively pokes his head out and after a moment of uncertainty blows his cheeks out with relief. In the new day, it is obvious the small cave mouth is artificial. Rock has been moved in some way to close the natural wider opening - either by great strength or explosive blasting. Or it could have been the long hard work of a pyramid-building team. He returns to the back of the cave, removes his shirt and wraps all but one of the tablets in it then ties it over his shoulders as a makeshift backpack. He wields the last tablet as a weapon - a poor replacement for the hand cannon he dropped when he scrambled on the horse. He leaves the cave and sees that he and his horse ran up into a blind ravine last night. He cautiously exits the ravine and looks about the plateau. There is a river in the distance but there's no sign of his horse or any other living thing.

He follows the river upstream as it becomes narrower and faster. He has to do some serious mountain climbing to achieve this and he puts the last tablet in with the others, leaving him weaponless. The sun is declining.

It is early evening when he spies a native camp in the middle distance. He runs towards it and, when the mocha-tanned native men spot him, they charge at him screaming and take him down, shiny-tipped spears pointing at his throat.

A very elderly green-eyed woman with a gnarly wooden staff calls out and hobbles towards the action. She is as dark-skinned as the other natives who, without exception, all have dark brown eyes.

At her word, the strong young men withdraw their weaponry and stand aside, heads bowed.

The boldest addresses her feet, 'He is so white,' he says in an unintelligible language, 'he must be one of them.'

'It is still daylight,' the Elder points out.

'So white, my lady,' insists the bold warrior. 'Let's make him do the test.'

The old lady considers for a moment and then nods once slowly as if granting a great concession.

They grab him again and manhandle him towards the stream and, in particular, a tree trunk bridge precariously perched high over a very white rocky stretch. It leads, not to the other side of the river but to a tiny eyot with a rude shelter half falling down on it. The stream is not leapable in any way. Paolo ties his tablet bundle around his neck and attempts this on all fours. He soon falls under the log and has to edge his way along like a sloth – then the bundle works loose and he has to let go with both hands to grab the main bundle and a stray tablet. He dangles by his legs to gasps from native women and shouts from the men that could be encouragement or derision. He re-ties the bundle and gets his hands back on for a while but then his legs slip off and he finishes the journey Tarzan style before swinging himself up on to the eyot and collapsing exhausted.

At the feet of the old woman.

He looks up at her incredulously and she points to a wide, secure bridge fifty yards upstream. It had been hidden behind some bushes but from this vantage point is clearly visible. The warriors are all laughing uncontrollably at him – most are doubled over and some are crying.

The old lady indicates the shack with her hand, as if in invitation.

* * *

Alonso Creem's Showroom Long Island City, Queens

Gus swaggers in carrying a large holdall.

Creem leaps from his seat and draws his gun. After a beat, his mountainous Nigerians do likewise.

'Hey, hey, be easy there homey, be cool,' says Gus, inexplicably cocky. 'Don't you wanna know why I'm back?'

Creem doesn't lower his weapon but he doesn't fire it either and the others follow his lead. He just stares at Gus, waiting.

Gus slowly puts the bag on the table messing up the neat piles of dollars they had been gambling with. One of the men growls and twitches but Creem gives him a sidelong stare and there is no bloodshed yet.

Gus unzips the bag and steps back, waving Creem to inspect the contents. No one moves until Gus puts his hands on his head. Creem looks inside and finds his money and weapons returned.

' Don't need 'em no more,' says Gus triumphantly and he slowly backs out lowering his hands. He starts to turn his back on Creem and his men, then turns back as if just remembering something. 'Might need you though,' he says. Creem and his crew burst out laughing.

Gus is annoyed and gives a short whistle.

Vaun strides in, hood down and dumps an even bigger bag even more destructively down on the poker game. Cards and money go everywhere. It's too much for the beefcake who was winning and he looses a few rounds into Vaun's chest.

At the sound of gunfire, half a dozen more silent, hooded figures materialise to menace the doorway but don't enter. Despite everything he's seen before, Gus is aghast… until Vaun tuts and opens the new bag as if the Nigerian had only spilt a drink over him.

The shooter can't resist examining first his weapon and then Vaun's chest. He gently teases the vampire's coat open and jerks back to see white oozing from the holes in the clothing. He slowly raises his eyes to Vaun's face and takes in the scars, pallor and all-black eyes, apparently for the first time. There's the surprisingly loud noise of twenty stone of meat hitting concrete as he collapses at Vaun's feet.

Everyone ignores the fallen man and Vaun pulls out bundle after bundle of hundreds and fifties from the bag and offers Creem two silver knuckle dusters saying, 'To match your teeth.'

Creem nods at the hooded figures behind Vaun. 'Who're these other guys?' he asks coolly, although he's already wearing the knuckle dusters.

'The Ancients have selectively recruited both exceptional warriors and the rich and influential throughout history,' replies Vaun. 'They are not like the renegade who styles himself "the Master" - indiscriminately making vast numbers of grunt minions.'

Gus can't help asking about his number one target, 'What about the waxy German? He don't grunt.'

'Ancients, masters, waxy Germans? What the hell are you talking about?' says Creem. He is ignored.

'He was chosen for a higher purpose,' says Vaun to Gus. 'Possibly as a human-immortal liaison. He can speak, whereas most of my kind cannot. And he retains some of his former self, albeit corrupted in his Master's image.'

'Er,' begins Gus, unusually reticent. 'Does he have a nose like you or does he look like…you know…kinda decayed…like those Ancient dudes?'

'I am… unusual,' says Vaun. 'As a mature eternal, _he_ probably uses makeup and prosthetics in order to pass among the living.' Vaun turns back to Creem. 'Are you in? We start tonight.'

'He prob'ly don't have the stomach for it,' goads Gus. ' He's a dealer, not a fighter.'

'We're in,' announces Creem. 'But you gotta explain some shit first.'

* * *

Sandra Edwards' Manhattan offices

Sandra watches a CCTV feed of Mr Fitzwilliam checking into a hotel near the Stoneheart building. He is still suited but his tie is loose and the top shirt button is undone. Sandra watches thoughtfully for a while, still twirling the locket in gloved fingers.

* * *

Maastricht 1989  
Corey's apartment bedroom  
and Sandra's hotel room

Corey and Sandra are getting dressed to meet again for the road trip to Berlin.

Lisa Stansfield's "This is the right time (to believe in love)" is on the radio in both rooms.

Corey tries on faded jeans, white T-shirt, a black leather jacket and Tom Cruise Ray-Bans. He checks himself out in the mirror and shakes his head in disgust.

In her room, Sandra dresses in the previous day's tomboy outfit of jeans, T-shirt and Doc Martens. She examines herself from every angle, then flaps her arms in frustration and walks off.

Corey dons a three-piece suit, looks at his reflection for a second or two and rolls his eyes.

Next up for Sandra are her bikini top, hot pants, strappy sandals and hair down. She fluffs her hair, pouts, pulls a couple of provocative poses and shakes her head.

Corey tries dressing down in his gym kit of camou shorts and baggy vest top. It has oversized armholes designed to reveal honed pectorals. Once again, he shakes his head then takes off the vest, bundles it up and sniffs. With a grimace he dropkicks it away. His phone rings.

Sandra then tries a slinky little black dress and holds her hair up sophisticatedly. She sighs and looks around at the contents of her backpack strewn on the bed. She packed light and there is only one remaining option.

When they meet again in the hotel lobby, he's in a short-sleeved turquoise shirt and chinos and she's plumped for a sleeveless blue summer dress. They can't stop smiling at each other.

'I'm sorry, Sandra,' says Corey - still grinning and not looking at all sorry, 'I should have phoned before. I got a call just now from Professor Setrakian. He can't make it for another fortnight at least. Something important has come up. He didn't say what but he said he'd explain when he came over. What did you want to do? Do you want to go home and come back when he confirms his flight?'

Sandra thinks for a moment. 'No. Actually, I'd quite like to stay. It'll probably not be a long delay and I'd love to talk to your grandfather and great grandmother again. I bet they've got fascinating stories. Do you think they'd tell them to me?'

' _Oma_ would be _delighted_ to spend more time with you,' says Corey, 'but don't listen to anything she tells you about me.'

Sandra grins. 'And, if you wouldn't mind, I'd really like to go to a shooting range and also, learn some of that unarmed combat you guys do.'

'Krav Maga?' says Corey, his face lighting up at the prospect.

'That's the fella.'

* * *

Angel's apartment, Long Island City, Queens

Angel Guzman Hurtado aka " The Silver Angel" arrives back in his flat and looks around at the detritus of his failed life. He picks up the silver fabric mask and takes it into the tiny kitchen. He looks for something to clean it with but the dirty dishes are up to his chest so he wanders out to the filthy bathroom where he tenderly washes it under a tap. Leaving it to dry on the radiator he returns to his armchair, pours himself a mug of tequila and settles down for a re-run of " _El Angel de Plata contra el Retorno de los Vampiros_ ", "The Silver Angel versus the Return of the Vampires".

It had been his biggest grossing film. In it he is valiant and powerful, stopping at nothing to defeat evil and save his friends (not to mention a curvy brunette half his age). He uses his trademark wrestling move of "the Angel's kiss" (a powerful open palm strike to the face) to knock the big bad away from the neck of the bronzed lovely. The girl squeals with delight as Angel drives a rubbery stake through the fiend's heart and the world is saved.

Angel sits up straight, downs the drink and, grabbing some keys and his soggy mask on the way out, stomps downstairs again.

The movie is still playing.

* * *

Fitzwilliam's Manhattan hotel room

Reggie Fitzwilliam tries to contact his brothers Major Augustus in West Point and Dr Bertram in Boston - to no avail. After the last phone call has met with a 'this service has been disconnected' auto voice, he sits on the edge of his bed and with a weary sigh, he drops his head into his hands.

* * *

Fet's place, Red Hook, Brooklyn

Fet brings he and Dutch some coffee and toast.

'You nervous at all?' he asks. 'About tomorrow.'

Dutch nods and her pale face confirms it. 'I don't even know if it was love,' she says. 'I don't know whether, if she was...you know..."turned", or whatever...if she'd come back for me. Or if it was the other way round, would I seek her out? But I know I don't want to have to kill her...Or what's left of her,' she adds as Fet opens his mouth to correct her.

'Have you got anyone who might come for you?' she asks him.

'Only my parents,' he says. 'I warned my dad when I saw my first vamp and well, they know where to find me... so I'm choosing to believe that they got out. How about your mum?'

'She must be safe back home in London,' she says. 'I haven't heard from her since I left home. Not even with all this...' she waves her hands around indicating the general chaos of New York, '...happening - which I assume must be on the news over there. She obviously doesn't care about me.'

'London is home?' asks Fet.

' _Was_ home,' she says.

'I thought you got your accent when you crossed the ocean for an English girl,' he says.

Dutch laughs out loud. 'Yeah, that's what I told you 'cos you were interrogating me and making such a big deal out of knowing all the New York accents. You couldn't even spot that it wasn't American.'

Fet leans back temporarily speechless.

'I thought everyone knew that accents were fixed by your early teens,' she says. 'I did cross the ocean for a girl but it was in the other direction.'

Fet looks like he's working up to ask Dutch something else but she pre–empts him. 'Thanks for staying up with me - keeping vigil, kind of, before...you know...' she says.

Fet smiles. 'I got ya back,' he says.

'Yeah, I know,' she says. Then awkwardly, almost begrudgingly, she says, 'You saved my life in Bolivar's, jumping on Eichhorst when he came at me.'

'Well, right back at ya,' says Fet, 'I wouldn've been able to stay on him so long if you hadn't've pumped him full of silver. He's powerful strong for a little grey suit.'

'And back at Stoneheart,' Fet continues, 'when I thought we were about to be whacked by Palmer's goons. I always hoped I'd have the guts, y'know, if I was ever in that kinda situation, to face up to it like a man – but you were brave first, standing up straight like that and looking 'im in the eye - you gave _me_ the strength to face im down.'

She smiles weakly and yawns. 'Yeah. I'm a proper hero. I wonder what happened to old Reggie. Did he ever grow a pair and stand up to Palmer? If he did, he'd be a great one for the old guy's army. He _definitely_ knows about vampires and I bet he can handle himself. You're the only fighter we've got right now. The doc's gonna be a liability, if he carries on moping and drinking.'

'We always need medics,' says Fet generously and stifles a yawn of his own.

'We need _one_ medic,' she says flatly. 'Nora might be sopping wet but she's done what he can't. I hope I can do it as well, if I have to. God, I hope Nikki's OK.' Dutch yawns again and turns back to the computer.

* * *

Sandra Edwards' Office, Manhattan

Sandra is in the middle of a phone call. Someone is giving _her_ orders for a change...

'...give my best to their royal highnesses, sir,' she says. 'Yes sir, of course.'

'Within the hour,' she says.

She is very respectful but stops just short of obsequious.

'Thank you sir. Goodnight.'

In the background a screen shows BBC News reporting an explosion on the stricken aeroplane at Heathrow and that the Channel tunnel has been closed due to "an ongoing incident". The murderous commands she barked this afternoon have been swiftly obeyed. She glances at the screen and nods but doesn't even smile.

* * *

Maastricht 1989

Corey and Sandra enter a sports hall. She's back in jeans and T-shirt but there's more make-up and she continues to give Corey the doe eyes at every opportunity.

'Do I need to dress up in one of those white judo things?' asks Sandra.

'No, no. Krav maga is self defence for the real world.'

'Look,' he says, 'I'm not an expert and I'm certainly no teacher. I don't know what you're expecting from these sessions...' he tails off looking apprehensive.

'I just want the basics. I want an alternative to the running-away-screaming-like-a-little-girl technique that's my only option at present. I don't want always to have to rely on a big strong man to protect me.' She looks at him defiantly. 'Can you help me with that?'

Corey looks both impressed and a touch intimidated but he smiles and nods. 'Krav promotes avoidance of confrontation where possible,' he warns. 'Running off screaming might be the best decision. If you can escape you should. Defuse a threatening situation, distract or even deceive your attacker. Do anything you can to survive.'

'But if I can't, I want to be able to fight back effectively,' Sandra insists. 'Really hurt an assailant. Krav maga's about aggression too isn't it? Its more counter attack than pure defence?'

'Woah, OK. That's quite some anger you got there,' he says trying to calm her down. 'Did your ex give you that?'

'A bit,' she admits, deflating slightly. 'But some of it is just my essential inner bitch.'

'Well stay in touch with her,' he says. 'You can certainly use her later.'

Corey continues, 'Tonight we'll go out and work on awareness of surroundings - identifying threats, spotting potential weapons or escape routes - that sort of thing. Now we'll try out some dodges and throws...'

* * *

 **Author's note: I don't know anything about Krav maga so I'm sorry if I have offended any afficionados. Also, I thought Reggie was an odd name for a gorgeous young bodyguard/nurse so I imagined that his parents were fans of PG Wodehouse...I'm sure, in truth, that he was deliberately named by the writers as a tongue-in-cheek reference to the gentleman's personal gentleman who could turn his hand to anything. I offer no apologies for saving the UK. We're an island - that's got to count for something. Hasn't it?**


	3. Chapter 3

The Strain: Another Season  
Episode 6

Captives  
Chapter Three

* * *

Fet's place, Red Hook, Brooklyn  
Setrakian's bedroom

'Noo!' protests Setrakian in a hoarse whisper. 'That was _strigoi_ blood!'

Sandra is horrified. 'You've tasted white before? When?'

'A long time ago.'

'Well then, you know that it heals you,' she says, briskly. 'Tell me you don't feel better already.'

'I've had it before but I thought it was poison…' his voice trails off. Then he whispers something. She only catches the words "Nazi" and "scum".

Sandra watches, curious to hear the story but half fearful of it.

Setrakian eyes come back from the past and he says, 'Without going into details…'

Sandra sighs with relief.

'…I was tracking the _Lumen_ through various underground channels I shan't go into and I heard of it in Amsterdam in the hands of a shadowy book collector named Jan-Piet Blaak. I met with his broker in June 1989.'

'Just before you came to Berlin to see me and Corey,' Sandra gasps.

'Yes,' says Setrakian. 'I chose the summer solstice for obvious reasons. The broker arranged a rendezvous and gave a description of a well-dressed, grey-haired man with a German accent and a penetrating gaze.'

'Eichhorst,' breathes Sandra, horrified.

Setrakian doesn't notice and continues. 'That's when I knew it was a trap.'

'But you went anyway,' says Sandra.

'As would you,' says Setrakian, calmly. 'I was armed, having brought the sword cane across…'

'How?' asks Sandra.

'…As carry-on - by thinly lining the sheath with lead and welding it shut. It was a different world then – before 9/11. And once I arrived in the Netherlands…well, people like me can always find friendly silversmiths in Europe, simply by rolling up their sleeves.' He glances at the faint but still legible A230385 tattooed on his arm.

'It _was_ a trap, of course,' he continues. 'There was no _Lumen_ \- he told me it had been destroyed - and I was tortured. That's when I was given the white blood and, along with other things, I believed it had caused the heart problems I suffered with for so long.' He shrugs and concludes. 'I escaped with my life and my cane. But it took me longer to recover - and to steel myself to leave the security of my adopted homeland - than I thought. Hence the first delay in meeting you.'

Sandra wells up. Here, at least, is suffering she can empathise with.

* * *

Amsterdam June 1989  
Outside "Chaps" gay bar

Setrakian triple-checks the address he's been given, in disbelief and trepidation. But he's determined and the sword cane gives him confidence.

He enters, keeping his gaze central to avoid catching anyone's eye. It's clear this is more than a bar. Oiled muscles are everywhere in the dim light but something about the set of Setrakian's jaw prevents him being approached. He asks at the bar for Eichhorst by name and description and is told to wait at a table.

The music is loud and proud - Madonna's _Express Yourself_ is followed by Queen's _I Want It All._ Then Setrakian is brought a drink and the song is changed to Natalie Cole's _Miss You Like Crazy._

'From the gentleman at the end of the bar,' says the waiter. 'The song too – you're a lucky man.' And he winks conspiratorially.

Setrakian looks across to someone in the shadows. All he can see is some silver hair and then the sleeve of a sharp suit as the figure raises his glass in salute.

Setrakian rejects the drink and the waiter looks him up and down. 'You won't do any better without paying for it, my friend,' he admonishes.

When Setrakian looks back up, the figure has disappeared. Setrakian bravely goes to look for him but the only trace is a blood-red silk handkerchief embroidered with the monogram, THE. As he examines it, something falls to the ground. Picking it up, he sees that it's an SS _totenkopf._ Too late, he realises that it's a badge with an unguarded pin. He's pricked his finger and, despite clutching desperately at the edge of the bar, his world goes fuzzy and he collapses into unnaturally strong, Savile Row-clad arms.

* * *

Fet's Place, Red Hook, Brooklyn

Sandra comes down from the bedroom. 'Now,' she says purposefully. 'Why is everyone still here?'

They look back at her, confused.

'Mrs Aristil,' she addresses Neeva. 'That meal was superb and I'm sure everyone appreciates your free cleaning and childcare services but it's time you took the children to safety. I will send cars round at first light tomorrow to bring you to the Finch building. From there, you'll travel by helicopter to a USAF Base upstate where you will connect with a flight to London.'

'The entire journey - until you are safely over the Atlantic, of course - will take place in full daylight or within my high-security building,' she continues. 'The only exception being the very short time it will take you to make it from the underground car park to the lift. My security team will be waiting to protect you during this brief vulnerable period.'

'I don't trust you,' says Eph. 'Or your motives. Once my son is in your power what's to stop you handing him over to Palmer in exchange for your wicked way with Eichhorst.'

For a second Sandra is incensed but then she smiles. 'Cornelia will go with them,' she says, while Dutch fruitlessly tells her to **ck off. 'Look in my eyes, Dr Goodweather, if you don't believe I'd do anything to keep her safe.'

Eph does but can't hold her stare for long.

'Can I just go back a few seconds?' says Nora evenly. 'The Finch building, _your_ high-security building, _your_ security team?'

'Ohhh,' says Dutch, realisation dawning. 'You work for Alec ffinch-Myles.'

'You did keep telling us he was on our side,' says Fet.

Dutch harrumphs.

'I _am_ Alec ffinch-Myles,' Sandra announces calmly into the stunned silence. 'Alexandra is my Christian name, but when I was young I didn't want everyone shortening it to a boy's name. Hence Sandra. Mills was my second married name. I tweaked it to Myles so that Cornelia wouldn't recognise it.'

'And ffinch?' asks Eph.

'I knew a girl called Georgina fforbes-Allen at school,' she shrugs flippantly. 'I was so jealous of that double f.'

'But how?' asks Fet. 'How'd you get your billions?'

'I told you,' says Dutch. 'My grandparents were rich.'

'Billions rich?' asks Fet.

'No,' says Sandra. 'And they weren't too pleased when I came back from Berlin - after disappearing for months - pregnant and married to an unemployed Jewish computer nerd. I was disinherited. I'll tell you the full story another time. I'm already late for a meeting. We have several big outside broadcasts coming up.

'Aren't you the only broadcasters in the city right now?' Nora points out.

'That's no excuse for sloppy journalism,' she smirks. 'I have a reputation to maintain.'

* * *

Eph and Nora return to the lab.

'I'm going to keep working on the slow-acting drug cocktail,' says Eph.

Nora looks at him. 'It's not a cure, Eph,' she cautions. 'It just kills vampire-worms slowly and inefficiently. Nothing has changed. There is still no cure for this disease and no hope for those turned. It's a fantasy.'

'No,' says Eph. 'I know that it can't be cured yet. But aren't you worried that we've given up too soon? I think, in time, this compound could be developed into a cure. Not an easy one, not an instant one and certainly not a painless one. Don't we owe it to humanity to try? I'm sure you won't let personal feelings stop you pursuing…'

'You are such a jerk,' interrupts Nora, fuming.

'I wasn't…'

'Yes you were,' she snaps, pulling off her gloves and flinging them on the bench. 'You were implying that I won't develop this mixture in case it brings your wife back to you.'

She storms out, Eph chasing.

When he catches up with her she rounds on him. 'I _will_ keep working on it, you jackass. _Once_ we've honed the second chemical weapon. And I'll keep it out of Edwards' reach. I don't trust her one bit.'

'Nor me,' Eph says emphatically. Then he thinks for a moment and calls his son. 'Zack, buddy, can you come help me tidy our room.'

Nora rolls her eyes at this lame excuse and returns to the lab.

Neeva calls Audrey and Keane to their room to pack some things.

Dutch and Fet are left behind. Dutch gets up after a few seconds of thoughtful silence and says, 'You don't think Mum's attractive do you?'

'Are you kidding me?' says Fet without thinking. 'She's gorgeous. Anyone can see that.'

Dutch's face says, " _wrong answer_ " but he doesn't notice.

Then he artlessly adds, 'But it's not your ninja kinda beautiful.'

'What?' she says, laughing.

'Well, y'know,' he says awkwardly, finding it difficult to express himself. 'I go around day after day and I can see you're a pretty girl and fun to be around and all but it doesn't like… hurt 'cos, well…you're just another pretty girl. Then one day, you look up at me from the computer and _BAMM!_ ' he spears the table with a knife, making her jump. 'Stabbed straight through the heart. Outta nowhere. Like a ninja…'

He gets up and leaves as Dutch watches him, dumbfounded.

* * *

The Goodweather boys' bedroom

Zack looks round at the Spartan room. 'There's nothing to tidy up, Dad,' he says innocently.

'I need you to go with Dutch and the others,' Eph says without preamble. 'Just until things are more stable here,' he adds into Zack's protests.

'Zack, I think Nora and I have a chance at turning one of the mixes into a potential cure for Mom.'

Zack lights up, then suspects a ruse. 'You said there was no hope…'

'I know, buddy. But that was before we discovered the slower kill rate of the new solution. I can't promise anything but if the host body could adapt to a reduced viral load, it might begin to revert to human as the native default organism. It's a long shot at best and it's never going to be a blanket cure for all because the vampire form would resist strongly. I'll have to capture the Mom-vampire and force it into her in tiny quantities over a long period of time. I don't want you seeing what I'll have to do to your mother to keep dosing her.'

'England's a long way away, Dad,' says Zack.

He is clearly unenthusiastic about the move. But Eph is fired up and he grips Zack's shoulders hard, eyes gleaming.

'Don't you see, we could be a family again, Z.'

Zack shrugs and nods. 'Well, then. Whatever it takes to bring Mom back.' And he starts to pack.

Then he pauses. 'We need to stop Mr Setrakian using the magic book to destroy the Master, don't we, Dad? Like Dutch's mom wants… otherwise Mom will die at the same time.'

'Dammit,' says Eph. Then, 'Sorry Z. I can't believe we have to side with that crazy bitch. Sorry, sorry. But I don't understand what her game is. She's not telling us everything, I know that much.'

'Dad,' says Zack tentatively. 'Remember how you felt about Matt when he turned Mom? I think she's had longer to stew over it than us, that's all. And she looks at Dutch like you look at me sometimes, when you think I don't notice.'

Eph smiles and ruffles the boy's hair. 'How d'you get to be so wise, little man?'

'I take after Mom,' Zack says, making his father choke out a laugh.

He pulls his son close and kisses his hair. 'What will I do without you, buddy? I'll miss you so much.'

'I love you, Dad.'

'I love you too, son.'

* * *

The next morning, Richard and Karl show up with two armoured cars and two colleagues. They'll travel in convoy with a spare vehicle in case of breakdown. Sandra isn't with them. According to Richard, she can't face saying goodbye to Dutch again, so soon.

'You should keep _your_ goodbyes brief,' adds Karl. 'We need to get going.'

'Traffic is bad everywhere,' explains Richard. 'There was trouble at the road blocks overnight.'

'There are road blocks?' says Nora.

'Miss ffinch-Myles persuaded Mayor Gomez to set up police bridge controls in the hours of darkness,' says Karl.

'That's all going to fall apart now that the new mayor's in Palmer's pocket,' says Eph.

'FinchTV carries out random live interviews with the police officers at the blockades,' says Richard.

'And the tunnels?' asks Setrakian, secretly pleased with his protégée's forethought.

'Miss ffinch-Myles monitors CCTV,' says Karl. 'And, if there are security breaches that aren't immediately responded to, she contacts the Chief of Police.'

'Is "contacts" British for "chews his balls off"?' asks Fet, shuddering.

Karl doesn't smile but says, 'Miss ffinch-Myles believes people behave better on camera.'

'She hasn't seen some of my Swedish movies,' mutters Fet under his breath.

Dutch comes downstairs with a small bag packed solely with weapons. She surprises Fet with a long kiss and whispers in his ear, 'It's not goodbye. I'll see them safely off in the helicopter and then I'm coming back. I've been working on something and I'm gonna see it through.'

* * *

East Berlin 1989  
The feeding room

Sandra is now lying on a mattress and pillow, both with waterproof covers. There is a similarly dressed duvet over the top of her. A chemical toilet sits in the far corner.

Eichhorst pushes through the creaky door, carrying a tray of food. There's a dress draped over one arm.

'I'm not ready,' the girl says weakly, crawling back under the covers.

'Not very enthusiastic,' chides Eichhorst.

He places the tray on the block and announces. 'Fillet steak. For a fine performance.'

He lays out the dress across his arms like a tailor showing off his wares. It's ankle length and looks almost Edwardian in style. Maria Von Croÿ would never have worn anything so dated and peasanty.

'Clothes,' he announces, proudly.

She looks up from the depths of her squeaky bed. 'That's not mine.'

'Clothes,' he repeats with more emphasis and pulls the duvet away, making her curl up in a ball.

'Put it on,' he commands.

She takes the hem and sniffs it. 'It's clean at least,' she acknowledges grudgingly.

She struggles to pull it over her head but is still too weak and falls back on the mattress.

Eichhorst sighs. 'Open wide,' he says briskly.

'I told you,' says Sandra petulantly. 'I'm not ready yet.'

'Your mouth,' he says wearily.

She does as bidden but watches him warily as he drops some more white blood on her tongue.

Her colour improves instantly and she gains strength to get dressed and appetite to attack the steak. She forgets all her boarding school etiquette and Eichhorst watches, half appreciative and half revolted.

'Is there something I've forgotten?' he asks when she finishes licking her fingers.

'The shower.'

'There isn't one down here,' he says. 'But I could hose you down.' He wrinkles his nose theatrically at the mess she's made of herself. However, with sure survival instinct, she has kept the dress relatively unscathed.

'A proper warm shower,' says Sandra resolutely. 'With soap and everything.'

'And everything?' he says archly. 'Well, if we time it carefully, we might manage it.'

Sandra grunts and lies back down facing the wall.

'Is there something _you've_ forgotten?' he asks ominously.

She rolls on her back, looking up at the ceiling, thinking.

'The interview?' she suggests. 'It can wait until I'm better.'

A movement from Eichhorst catches her eye and she rolls back to face him. He is on one knee, holding out a small velvet-covered box in a darkly significant way. The engagement ring Corey gave her is sitting inside, accusing her with every glint and sparkle.

Eichhorst is having fun and not even trying to conceal his glee.

'I'm old-fashioned,' he shrugs for explanation and grins.

Sandra looks from the ring to Eichhorst several times. She is visibly trying to find an angle to play.

Finally, she leaps at him, flings her arms around his neck and rains kisses all over his face.

'Oh yes. Yes,' she gushes. 'I _will_ marry you. We'll be together forever. Imagine that, darling - an eternity of each other. Won't that be wonderful?'

He throws her off, disgusted, and stands up, leaving the jewellery box on the floor.

After he dusts himself off and leaves, she examines the ring for a very long time. Then she whispers, 'I'm so sorry, my love,' puts the ring back on and falls back on the bed, sobbing.

She's very quiet but Eichhorst has _strigoi_ hearing. He stands outside in the corridor and smiles. He has found her weakness.

* * *

Amsterdam June 1989

Setrakian recovers consciousness naked, gagged and bound to an operating table by wrists, ankles and neck.

Eichhorst's eyes are staring into his. Eichhorst's nose and hair tickle his face as his captor leans down and murmurs hotly in his ear.

* * *

 **Author's note: Spoilers. Books as well as TV. I'm so far behind I might as well...**

…

…

…

...

 **Fet and Eph. They pretty much earned my undying love and dislike respectively in 1.11** _ **The Third Rail**_ **when Eph wanted to turn the light bomb into a strobe and Fet teased him with visions of an 80s rock show. You can understand this, I'm sure, given that my hatred of gratuitous flickering lights is on record in previous notes. This was also one of the biggest indications for me that** _ **The Strain**_ **was different and special. If only it had remained so.**

 **The last three episodes 2.04 –2.06 really confirmed my feelings for these characters. I love Fet. Fet is the best: 'Fet needs food', 'Meep Meep' and the card game with Griselda and other new friends… I** _ **wish**_ **I was good enough to do him justice in** _ **Another Season.**_

 **And Eph…**

 **Just when you thought you couldn't hate the guy anymore… He cheats on Nora. What an arsehole.**

 **New Quinlan – Rupert Penry-Jones…Mmm…I'll wait and see.**

 **Romantic Gus – love it. I haven't given him a love interest yet cos he's still busy with Team Quinlan/Vaun in my universe.**

 **Coco Marchand – what's her deal? She must be faking it surely. She cannot possibly fancy Eldritch, can she? Still, I'm expecting you to swallow something as unlikely, aren't I?**

 **Reggie Fitzwilliam – Nooooooooo.**

 **The Master's transformation – well, doing it this early certainly saves my beloved Setrakian from forcing it on The M by sacrificing himself in the power station but I will miss Robert Maillet.**

 **And Eichhorst – I hate to say it but he wasn't really doing it for me this season. Sure, he was as reliably menacing as ever and that is still, without question, the scariest smile on television - blond wig or no blond wig.  
** **But TV is awash with scary bad guys, what set him apart was the other side to him that we had in season 1 - the rare, microsecond glimpses of someone as harmless and charming as my kindly old geography teacher. He had depth. 2.06 briefly brought that back, thank you.**


	4. Chapter 4

The Strain: Another Season  
Episode 2

Night Hero Part 2  
Chapter Four

* * *

Maastricht 1989

Back in the sports hall, Sandra and Corey are practising escaping from holds. There is a slightly cooller atmosphere after the revelations of the previous night.

'Come on,' she says, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. 'Attack me properly - like you want to hurt me, not like you're scared to touch me. A four-year-old could get out of that last hold.'

She stands there looking defiant for a second or two, then says, 'Right, I'm walking down the street,' she starts to strut down the hall like a pop star. 'Now, pretend...' she gasps as Corey holds her fast from behind, squeezing gradually to pin her arms tighter and tighter while still allowing her to breathe and talk.

'Happy now?' he asks, breathing harshly. 'What are you going to do here?' His breath is hot on her neck and his hair tickles her cheek. She shakes her head trying to use her ponytail in the same way but his upper hand comes up to grip her jaw and push her head tight into the crook of his neck immobilising it.

She stares at the hall's ceiling, every muscle in her body tense, as she tries to figure her way out.

Suddenly her upper body relaxes completely. She is still standing, bearing her own weight, so Corey knows she hasn't fainted. 'What are you doing?' he asks suspiciously.

'There's no point in struggling. I can't fight you. You're much bigger and stronger than me.'

'You can still move your legs. Use those.'

'Then you'll just throw me to the floor and I'll be in an even worse position,' she says mutinously. 'I will _not_ squirm futilely in your arms. I won't be the helpless screaming victim. Not. Ever.'

She stands there unperturbed for a while. 'There's another way, I'm certain,' she says. 'Just give me a second.'

While Corey is laughing at this, he unwittingly relaxes the pinning a fraction. Sandra strokes up the inside of his thigh. Right up. Until...

He lets go and jumps back, a little shocked.

Sandra is standing in front of him, smirking. 'Attack. Over.'

His eyes darken and Sandra looks as if she's expecting a telling off. She gives a little squeak of surprise when he moves in close and kisses her.

She steadily pulls him even closer until she steps quickly back onto the mat and brings them both down, twisting at the last moment to be on top. She doesn't pull away though. Instead, she's so enthusiastic that, when she breaks for air, Corey smiles. 'That's the best throw down you've done all afternoon,' he says, 'but we're gonna have to move this elsewhere.'

'Oh. Why's that?' she breathes, nibbling his ear and undoing his flies.

Reluctantly, Corey manages to get her to pause. 'Because the Under-7 Ballet class starts here in ten minutes,' he says.

* * *

Maastricht 1989 Corey's apartment bedroom

The next morning he wakes and she's not beside him.

He can hear the shower running and goes to find her. Drawing aside the shower curtain, he gently takes the bottle of hair and body wash from her hand to examine it. It has "Unperfumed", "Pure" and "Uncoloured" emblazoned all over it. He sniffs it.

'Is this it?' he says, incredulous. 'Is this the smell that's been driving me insane ever since I met you?'

Sandra shrugs. 'I have very sensitive skin.'

'Mmm. I remember.' He kisses her shoulder and steps into the shower. She turns, smiling and puts her arms around him.

* * *

Fet's Place, Red Hook, Brooklyn

It's Nora's and Setrakian's turn on guard duty.

Nora brings Setrakian a steaming mug. 'I couldn't find any decaff,' she explains when he sniffs it. 'So I made you tea.'

He looks up a little disappointed. 'Your heart,' she explains and he nods grudgingly.

She sits opposite him and sips her own drink, studying him for a bit. 'Your wife believed didn't she?' she says eventually.

'Yes,' he sighs. 'There were a couple of other men who followed me in the early sixties but when they were taken, she was my sole companion in the fight.'

'When you had to kill her… you were left all alone weren't you?' says Nora.

Setrakian nods sadly. 'Is that how you feel?'

Nora nods.

'Dr Goodweather must do what you and I have done and that soon,' he says.

'He had a chance,' says Nora bitterly, 'at Kelly's house the other day. He had a clear shot at point blank range and he couldn't do it.'

'And that is the reason for the distance between you now?'

It isn't really a question but Nora nods. 'May I?' she asks waggling a cigarette in the air. Setrakian waves a permissive hand.

'Was there no one else since then?' she asks lighting up.

'There _was_ another girl,' he says, 'many years ago. A lovely creature. Warm and empathic but fearless – to the point of stupid. And nosy.' He smiles at the memory. 'She always had to know things,' he continues. 'To hear people's stories.'

Nora is looking at him openly curious.

Setrakian shakes his head. 'No, nothing like that – it was not _that_ many years ago. I was already an old man and she came to me with her fiancé. She seemed to believe but of course, it's hard to tell until you're faced with it. She disappeared one night soon after Eichhorst had been spotted in the area. He must have killed her rather than turning her, because she didn't return for her Loved One. But the uncertainty, the lack of closure was too much for the young man, especially as he didn't truly believe. He spent months searching for her. I had to return here…'

'For the heart in the jar?'

Setrakian shrugs and continues. 'He kept in touch at first but that gradually got less and less frequent. He thought I could have little to contribute to the search, I suppose. So sad, such a lovely couple…'

* * *

Venice 1508

A merchant ship sails into port and docks. It's raining heavily but the docks are still heaving with life. Paolo disembarks with his tablets wrapped in sacking and tucked under his arm. There's a glint of silver and two of his erstwhile shipmates exchange avaricious glances.

Paolo makes his way through the busy streets. Other dodgy-looking men eye him and the bundle speculatively throughout his wanderings.

He is seen sometimes chatting with cloth merchants who appear to know him, sometimes transacting with weaponsmiths or carpenters but for hours never resting or heading for home.

He seems to visit every conceivable trade within the market district, crossing and recrossing the canals and only when he notices the slowly darkening sky does he finally head for shelter.

He unlocks a boarded-up shop and trudges up two flights of stairs to an attic bedroom. Somewhere in his travels in the city, he has shed the tablets because he discards the empty sacking on the floor and collapses onto the bed with a sigh of relief.

He watches the spiders on the beams above him then a pale face comes into view and smiles gently.

 _'Buonasera_ ,' says Vaun, 'Good evening'.

* * *

 **Author's note: Sorry there's no Eichhorst in this "episode", I know he's everybody's favourite. He does get a few mentions though.  
I'm trying to use him sparingly, as they did in season 1. There's more of him in later episodes - you'll probably all be sick of him by the end.**


End file.
